


We’d be Good (We’d be Great Together)

by Rimastark



Category: One Piece
Genre: Ace is a Model, Developing Relationship, Dreams, Friends to Lovers, Future children - Freeform, Humor, M/M, Marco designs clothes and outfits, Modern AU, No Angst, One Piece 2018 Secret Santa, One Shot, Plot convenience, Sort Of, Time Travel, attempted humor, im a full day late with this im sorry zefiar I hope you like it, just light pining, shirohige is a fashion label, the mugiwara are a band
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-09-28 05:00:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17176361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rimastark/pseuds/Rimastark
Summary: Marco Fushichou is the head designer for Los Angeles’ most popular fashion line, Shirohige. After coming across popular influencer Ace D. Portgas’ instagram page, he falls in love, sees the future, and signs a contract.Not exactly in that order.———“Y’all just want my ass shots,” Ace drawled at Marco from the floor.Marco sighed, because Ace wasn’t wrong.Ace grinned, because nothing was better than messing with his favorite designer.The photographer was tired, and wanted to go home.





	We’d be Good (We’d be Great Together)

**Author's Note:**

> Wow! The first fic I write for this fandom, and it’s not even a ship I’ve looked at a lot before this month!
> 
> Anyway, this is for the amazingly talented Zefiar on tumblr, for the One Piece Secret Santa 2018, which I am a full day late for. 
> 
> Zefiar’s art is incredible, and as I can barely draw a stick figure myself, I decided to try my hand at fic writing. For once. 
> 
> Writing this fic has been a full journey, I changed prompts midway through the assignment (I had originally planned a CoraMingo Mafia AU, which I’ll probably write sometime in the future, but then Ace as a James Charles-esque character popped into my head and I couldn’t let him go), lost my laptop at the airport, and ended up having to type the entirety of the new fic on my phone. 
> 
> Please excuse my typos, or point the mistakes out in the comments! 
> 
> Like I said, it’s my first fic, so please leave feedback and let me know what you think!

“Yes, yoi, that’s perfect.”

“Tilt your head a bit? I need flirty, give me a smile.”

“Okay, good, play with the straps- lean back a little- there, yeah, good.”

Under the burning sun in one of Los Angeles’ most gorgeous botanical gardens, Marco Fushichou was having a mid-youth crisis. The source of this, of course, was Shirohige’s latest contract model, whose first official photoshoot he was currently overseeing.

Honestly, Marco considered himself too old for this kind of nonsense: a twenty-seven year old had no business fawning over a twenty-two year old upstart, but here he was, watching his designs brought to life by the most beautiful man to grace downtown L.A. since who the fuck knows when.

Because Ace D. Portgas couldn’t just be another pretty face, he was a boy with drive; funny, and fierce, and family-oriented, and of course, hotter than the bright lights focused on him, highlighting his cheekbones, and making his eyes burn brighter than normal, and fuck, Marco was getting distracted. Again.

Back to work, come on.

“You’re almost done, we just need a few shots from the back- turn around so we can get the-“

“The ass shots. Y’all just want my ass shots,” Ace drawled at Marco from the floor, unperturbed by his superior’s lack of attention during his shoot.

Marco sighed, because Ace wasn’t wrong.

Ace grinned, because nothing was better than messing with his favorite designer.

The photographer was tired, and wanted to go home.

“Yes, Ace. Marco wants your ass shots. Let’s get this shit over with.”

“Thatch, professionalism at work, please.”

He’d have a headache by the end of the day.

—

45 minutes later, Marco found himself waiting outside Ace’s trailer because he was weak, and when Ace Portgas tells you that “no photoshoot is finished without a pink drink after!” and “any self respecting director would take extra good care of their model afterward a first shoot,” you are obliged to comply.

As if Marco wouldn’t have done that already. He sighed, and ran a hand through the close-shaven hair at the back of his head, scrolling through his Instagram feed. “Yoi, what’s the hold up,” he called.

“If you gave me literally five seconds, I’d be out, it’s not my fault that-”

a grunt, “these suspenders-”

a crash, “that YOU designed-”

a thump, “are hard as fuck to get off.”

Marco stifled a laugh on the other side of the door.

“Ace.”

“Yeah?”

“I, uh.” Pfft.

“... Marco?”

“I made those suspenders with clips on the bottom.”

“...”

“Unclip them. From the pants. They shouldn’t tangle, yoi.”

Silence filled the air. Click.

A few short minutes later, Ace Portgas stepped out in a pair of black Adidas shorts and an orange muscle tank. With his hair pulled back in a low ponytail and his circular gold glasses framing his face, he looked absolutely stunning. His makeup from the shoot was gone, so his tan skin and dark freckles stood out on his face.

Marco would not survive.

—

At a Starbucks five minutes from Marco’s condo in downtown Los Angeles, a very lucky man was the focus of one Ace Portgas’ attention.

“Aw, no, I appreciate it, really. I mean, I’m used to bein’ recognized, but an autograph is somethin’ else altogether,” Ace gushed. “Cause like, it’s because of you that Shirohige contracted me in the first place, you know?”

He paused, and took a long sip of his pink drink.

“You’ve got a lotta pull with the company, as head designer and all, and I really can’t even believe you saw my post- the chances were one in a million in the first place!”

Ace peeked up at Marco through his eyelashes, and smiled- oh lord, the guy just keeps getting cuter- and continued, a bit quieter. “I know I’ve said it a million times before, but I really do admire your work, and thanks for believing in me.”

Marco smiled at him, and started to reply, but was cut off, “Tell you what, I’m having a bash over at my place tonight, my brother and his friends are comin’ over to spend the summer at my place, it’s gonna be my first time seein‘ them since I arrived in L.A. and uh, I’d love it if you came! If you have time!”

The blonde man looked at the brunette sitting across the table from him and laughed, “can I speak yet?” Ace nodded sheepishly.

Marco took a moment and grinned at the man across the table from him. His eyes crinkled as he watched Ace sip on his drink, took in the expectant look in his eyes as the model waited for an answer to his question.

“Yeah, I’d like that. Should I bring anything with me? Some drinks, perhaps? Food?”

Ace lit up at his reply, “no, geez, this is perfect! Just show up, really, I’m gonna have so much fun introducin’ you to my little bro, and the crew, fuck, I gotta get ready and shit-” Marco laughed, “chill, Portgas,”

Yeah, cause he was so relaxed right now. Hypocrite.

“I’m looking forward to meeting everyone too. What’s your brother like, tell me about him.”

“Aw, well Luffy’s something special, honestly! He and his band are on tour right now, he’s all over the place usually, but he’s gonna be with me this summer while the band records, writes some stuff, and gets shit together before leavin’ again. It’s gonna be fuckin’ awesome! They’re all so talented,” Ace rambled on.

Marco put his chin in the palm of his hand, and gazed at Ace as he gestured about, talking about his brother’s band.

Fuuuuck. He had it so bad. He could get used to this.

—

On a normal evening, after a day directing a shoot, meeting with models, and going to meetings with his boss-

(“Marco, you realize you’re not nearly as subtle as you think you are, right?”

“... I have no idea what you’re talking about, Oji.”

“Ah. Of course. You always go to the new models’ first photoshoots. And get coffee with them afterwards. And pick color schemes that complement their skin tones. And-”

“Yes, yes, okay, that’s enough, I see your point, thanks.”)

He would go to yoga, take a shower, make a smoothie, and work on his lookbook. Maybe scroll through Instagram before settling in to watch Elite on Netflix, or call Oji to confirm the next day’s schedule.

Today, however, he skipped yoga, and instead of a smoothie, grabbed a pineapple juice box from the fridge, and headed straight to his closet to obsess over what the fuck he was gonna wear in relative peace.

He had the red vest and grey jeans…?

Fuck, no.

Dark green tank, maybe, with the camo cargos?

Nah, the purple t-shirt, and wear that with the oversized cargos. Geometric earrings, yeah, the silver triangle ones, but shoes? Shoes, fuck.

He flopped down on his back in the center of the couch he kept in the spacious walk-in closet, and crossed his arm over his eyes. He could keep it together fine when it was just the two of them, but it seemed like he was completely fucking obvious to everyone except Ace himself, and now he was quite literally meeting his family? People important to him, his younger brother, who Ace adored, and his band, and whoever else Ace invited to this part of his.

Fuck, he was screwed. He needed a nap.

—

When Marco woke up, a few key elements were off.

First, he wasn’t hanging half off of his couch (where he woken up more times than he’d care to admit), second, there was music playing faintly from somewhere in the house, and third, he was in bed with an extremely hot and noticeably naked man.

Wait. What the fuck?

Marco startled, and sat up to take in his surroundings. His legs were tangled in a soft fleece blanket, which were all on his side of the bed, while a halo of dark hair fluffed on top of an indeterminate number of pillows on the other.

Freckles graced the face of the man next to him, his eyelashes brushing against the cheek that wasn’t smushed into the pillow beneath his head.

Marco’s eyes trailed down the rest of the man’s body, a sculpted back, a pretty arch, and yep, wow, that was a bare ass, this where the fuck was he, and how the hell did he end up in bed with his NAKED crush? Marco quickly put the blanket over his (lover?? friend?? boyfriend??) coworker’s still-sleeping form, and sent thanks up to the heavens that he, at least, was wearing boxers.

Feet pattered across the floor outside of (his?) bedroom door, followed by a deep-set voice, “Dad? Papa?” The door cracked open.

“Shit, wait,” Marco said hastily, “give me a second, uh,”

Holy shit he had a kid, how the fuck was he supposed to know his name, “I’ll be out in a couple minutes, let me get dressed.”

The door closed, “kay, I’m in the kitchen,” and steps faded down a hallway in the direction he assumed was the kitchen.

“Was that Leo?” A deep husky voice sounded from behind him, and a literal angel peered up at him through thick, dark, hair.

“Um. Uh. Yeah, that was, that was Leo, of course, I was gonna go see what he wanted.”

Ace squinted up at him, “Okaaaay. Are you good, babe? You look kinda pale.” He reached his hand up and pressed it to Marco’s forehead. “Hmm. Kinda clammy, I guess, you don’t have a fever or anythin’, so it’s prob’ly nothin’ bad.”

He let out a yawn, then rolled over to fully face Marco. “Well, it’s your fault I’m so tired anyway, you can figure out what’s wrong with our moody-ass teenager yourself.”

He smirked up at Marco. “And maybe, if I’m feeling more awake by then, we can pick up where we left off last night, yeah?”

Fuck.

“Uh. Shit, yeah, yeah, definitely... babe.”

Ace now looked concerned.

“Yoi, I’m going to get dressed, now, yeah.” He hopped off the bed and went towards one of the four doors in the room.

“Uh, Marco?”

“... yes, darling?”

“That one’s my closet.”

Marco froze. His back straightened. “I… definitely knew that. Ha. Uh.” He turned quickly on his heel and headed towards the door in the middle, efficiently moving into the room and shutting the door.

He felt along for the wall switch, and found himself in the bathroom.

Dual sinks were positioned directly in front of a large mirror, one with various makeup, hair, and facial products sprawled about and hair ties on a hook meant for hand towels, and the other with a can of shaving cream, a toothbrush, and neatly organized toiletries. Marco once again sent a thank you to the gods above for the recognizable products on what he assumed was his side of the counter, and brushed his teeth while he contemplated his situation.

He knows this: He and Ace are together. They definitely fucked last night, and it’s not a one time thing because they live together, clearly, and wow, they have a kid! A teen, apparently, named Leo, who is waiting for him to make breakfast. Okay. He can handle this. He needs to figure out why he’s here, and try not to let anyone find out that he has no clue what he’s doing. Cool.

With a clear goal in mind, Marco washed his face and finished his morning routine, and opened the door to his bedroom only to find his (boyfriend?) asleep again.

Quietly, he made his way to the last door, and found what had to be his closet. Everything color coded, a wall of shoes, his vanity with jewelry, and his favorite couch. As he looked around, he saw a lot of familiar pieces, his favorite jacket, a pair of light blue vans, his pink shorts and yellow turtleneck sweater; and a lot of clothes that had to be new additions, like the orange overalls and a pair of jeans with buttons all down the side of the legs.

Today, he’d just play it safe- Nike joggers and a white hooded sweatshirt.

Marco headed back out to the hallway, decided to turn right, ended up by a porch, turned around, and found his way to the kitchen, where his son was waiting for him.

“Finally, Pops, you took forever. I ate cause I figured you and dad were busy or something.” He took a moment to take in the image- the kid had pink hair, droopy purple eyes, and, by the state of the kitchen, seemed to have a voracious appetite.

He looked to be about fourteen or fifteen, the spitting image of someone he knew- Bonney. He looked like Jewelry Bonney.

“Sorry, kid, I was talking to your Dad.” Marco opened the fridge, sighed, and closed it again. “How much did you eat, fuckin hell,” he muttered under his breath.

He turned back to face the kid, told him to meet him in the car, and when asked why, pointed to an empty fridge.

“There is literally no food left, yoi. We’ll get some shopping done and be back before Ace wakes up,” he walked to the front door to pick up a set of keys and twirled them around his finger as he stepped outside. The key was remote, so he crossed his fingers, pressed the unlock button, and breathed a sigh of relief when it unlocked the pretty yellow Benz in the driveway.

At least he recognizes this neighborhood- it’s a gorgeous area, about a ten minute drive from downtown Los Angeles. Marco’s geographical knowledge isn’t spectacular, but he knows this place like the back of his hand because it’s where he grew up. The Moby Dick residencies are a set of large homes in a protected community, almost suburban.

He and Oji lived there together when he was younger, before he started living on his own, and Marco could probably still find his way to his father figure’s house now if he tried.

He got into the driver’s seat of the car, started it, looked at his son, and took a deep breath. He could do this much, at least.

—

This was comfortable.

Marco liked the quiet. Relaxation, focusing on the self, it made it easier to organize his thoughts and therefore, made him more productive.

Complete silence, however, was awkward- situations were ideal when there was background noise to fill the air.

The car was quiet, though, windows down, and Marco could hear the wind rushing by as he drove down the highway. He could not, however, leave the situation as it was at the moment. Because although he didn’t know him, something was bothering his son, and it was his duty to care for him, or something.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Leo typing on his phone, biting his lip in distress.

“So...”

“Hm?”

“What’s going on, yoi? You seem sort of out of it, kid.”

“Yeah.”

Leo turned to face Marco, “When you first met dad, how did you ask him out?”

“Uh,”

“No, no, let me finish? Cause I met this girl on Twitter, and she goes to my school, and she’s really pretty, and funny, and I dunno how to talk to her really, we’ve only met once, but we talk all the time and just,” he sighed, “ I wanna get to know her. That’s all it is, I guess.”

Marco sat quietly for a minute. He hadn’t even asked Ace out yet himself, and now he’s giving love advice to their son?

“The scariest part of love, I think, is actually expressing it. It’s something you have to show and say, you have to be clear.

“It’s not like you can just wait for the universe to do its thing, okay? Take action, and everything will work out the way it’s meant to.”

Marco came to a stop at a red light. “I think you should get to know more about her, okay? Try to see what she likes, what’s important to her, all that.”

He looked over at his son.

Hm. Whoever would’ve thought he’d give the advice he needed to his fourteen year old son.

The light turned green.

He smirked, and stepped on the gas.

—

Their shopping excursion passed without too many mishaps, if you asked Marco.

If you asked Leo, you’d get a totally different story:

His Pops forgot almost all of his Dad’s favorite foods, passed by Auntie Nami in the produce aisle without even saying hello, and didn’t stop at All Blue to get a snack and see Uncle Sanji and Zoro like they usually did when they went out together.

Oh well. Everyone had off days.

(He was sure his aunt was offended, though, he’d have to make sure to apologize later.)

—

“Babe, we’re home.”

“Hi, Dad, we got food.”

Ace looked up from his seat at the table and smiled. “Aw, y’all shoulda woke me up, I woulda come.”

Marco made his way to the refrigerator, and started putting away groceries. “I thought I’d let you rest,” he turned to lean against the fridge, and smirked at the man walking towards him, “after all, you’re the one who said I tired you out.”

Ace leaned on his chest, and pulled him down into a surprisingly sweet kiss,

“I have the best,” kiss, “most thoughtful,” kiss, “adorably awkward husband in the world.” He pulled away and grinned up at Marco.

Husband. Kisses. He’s married to Ace Portgas. Wait. Is he Marco Portgas now? Or did Ace take his last name, Fushichou? Holy hell. Marco shook his head.

“Hey, wait! I’m not awkward!”

—

Once again, Marco found himself in his safe space, although this time, he was accompanied by his husband (husband! damn!).

“Luffy wants us over at his place, he and the band leave next week and we’re gonna get together for drinks.”

Ace laid sprawled out comfortably on Marco’s couch. The model held up a sheer black shirt, fretted with white sparkles. “D’you think I could still pull this thing off?”

Marco turned from where he was carefully selecting earrings to complement the necklace he had chosen earlier.

“Love, you could pull off anything you wanted to. Without trying, even.”

Ace laughed, “you always say that. Wear the diamond pair. Silver base. I like those ones.”

Marco grunted his approval, and moved to pick out shoes. “Which shoes? You know, since you’re the fashion designer here.” Ace snorted from his seat in the middle of the closet.

“Don’t sass me, sir. The Doc Martens, of course.” He pointed to the sparkly, silver boots on the top shelf of Marco’s closet. The pair was clearly older than most of the shoes there, Marco remembered when he bought them- the day he first saw Ace’s Instagram page, and DM’d him to see if he’d be interested in modeling for Shirohige.

A week later, he had directed Ace’s first official shoot. He looked at his husband, and saw him blush lightly. “Those ones are special, huh?”

Ace’s blush spread down his neck, and blossomed from light pink to a warm red, all the way to the top of his chest. “Shut up, I just think they’re pretty.”

Marco snickered, and made his way over to his husband, then collapsed on top of the dark-haired man.

“Ugh, fuck, Marco, get off!” Marco lifted his head, and gave Ace a soft smile.

“Nahhh. Let me love you for a second.” Ace returned his smile, and relaxed back into the couch.

Before they knew it, both men drifted off to sleep.

—

Bzzzzzzz. Bzzzzzzz. BZZZZZZ.

Marco startled awake, sitting up quickly on the couch where he had fallen asleep.

He checked his phone, goddamn, it was fucking 8:15, and cringed at all the notifications.

Missed call from Thatch (6)

Missed call from Oji (2)

Missed call from Unknown Number (16)

3 unread text messages from Ace Portgas

1 unread text message from Jewelry Bonney

Ah, fuck.

—

Ace Portgas & You

4:15 PM

hey, be at my place at 9

luffy and the crew are excited to meet you

5:00 PM

ngl im pretty excited to see you too ;)

8:16 PM

I look forward to seeing you there, Ace.

Can’t wait to meet your brother and friends!

Jewelry Bonney & You

6:22 PM

Bossman! I heard you got a date with the new kid ;))))

I’m gonna be at the get-together tonight so I’ll see u there :P

read 8:17 PM

He’d call Thatch back after the party, and he’d see Oji tomorrow night for dinner anyway; he had to leave in twenty minutes to make it to Ace’s on time.

His outfit was pretty complete- purple top, cargos, the triangle earrings, maybe bring a jean jacket. A slow smile spread across his face. He knew exactly what shoes to wear.

—

“Heeeeey!!! Ace, your friend is here!”

A loud, short boy had opened the door to Ace’s apartment.

“Hi! I’m Luffy, and I’m gonna be the greatest musician the world’s ever seen! Your name is Marco? I tried to call you earlier but Ace got annoyed and Nami yelled at me cause she said it was weird, but I wanted to know about you before the party but you’re here now, so it’s okay, and-”

“Oh no, god, Luffy, shut up, he just got here!” Ace appeared in the doorway, and greeted a shocked Marco. “

Hey! ‘m glad you could make it! We just got food and shit set up, everyone’s pumped to meet you!” Ace smiled at Marco, and looked him up and down. “

... lookin good,” Ace said with a playful wink. “I love your shoes.” Marco let out a chuckle, kicked off a sparkly pair of Doc Martens, and went to follow Ace inside.

Someday, they were gonna be great together.


End file.
